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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773559">A Song For The Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedFlight/pseuds/WingedFlight'>WingedFlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2013-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2013-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:48:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedFlight/pseuds/WingedFlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Star showers have always boded well for Narnia's future. An AU of the Last Battle.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jill Pole/Eustace Scrubb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Song For The Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>[Written for lauraandrews for the Narnia Fic Exchange 2013; Cross-posted to AO3 in August 2020]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>One, </em>a dazzling streak of light here and gone in the blink of an eye. You tip back your head, breathing in the fresh scent of grass and scanning the sky even though the shooting star has already vanished.</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"And so it begins," Eustace intones. You smirk, elbowing his ribs. He yelps and pinches your arm in retaliation.</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The rest of the stars are winking in and out of focus, teasing you. A dark shape blinks across your line of vision; you flinch before realizing it is only a bat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">In the distance, you hear the honk of a car horn. The sound hovers heavy in the night air before fading to the familiar hum of the crickets. Eustace sighs, shifting position. His arm brushes against your own as he settles back against the grass.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">"Glad you're here," you whisper. "Mmhm," he responds.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A second star shoots across the sky.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Eustace told you once that the stars of this world are nothing more than burning rocks. It's hard to believe, when they look just the same as Narnian stars glimmering in the sky above.</span>
</p>
<p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Lucy tells tales of a retired star at the end of the world. Rilian's mother had been the daughter of that star, and even Tirian carried the glow of his ancestors in his veins. When you close your eyes, you can still remember the shock of the king's silver-tinted blood gleaming against your dark skin as you pressed down hard on his wound and <em>prayed. </em>Later, when his wound scabbed silver, you found him in the healer's tent telling tales of his ancestors' dances through the sky.</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Even now, these stories seem more real to you than the theory of rock debris falling through the heavens. You won't say this, though; Eustace would launch into another scientific lecture if you </span>
  <span class="s1">admitted such a thing.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">An especially bright streak flashes above and, almost involuntarily, you lift your hand to point it out. The star is already gone, leaving an absence of light in its wake. Your hand hovers in the air until you jab suddenly to the right at the sight of another star.</span>
</p>
<p class="p9">
  <span class="s1">"Three," whispers Eustace under his breath. He stretches his own arm up and it bumps against your wrist. Your fingers entwine. It's still strange how different his hand feels now that the scars and calluses of battle are gone, leaving only the soft skin of an English schoolboy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Overhead, the sky continues its show of lights. You tighten your grip in excitement as another two stars arc overhead in parallel lines.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Four, five," murmurs Eustace, and squeezes back.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The scream of battle had been ringing in your ears as the arrow trembled against the bowstring. You'd had to lower your weapon and take a breath before your arms felt steady enough to sight the shot. A Calormene, briefly unprotected; a hyena leaping toward Tirian; a dwarf about to shoot his own arrow into the fray. All the lessons Susan had taught you at the archery range so long before had melded into the instinctive <em>twang-and-zipp, twang-and-zipp.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">And then the Calormene captain managed to cut through Tirian's defence. You loosed another arrow that missed and could only watch helplessly as the warm, glowing blood blossomed across Tirian's skin.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">And as he collapsed, the lights in the sky above began to drift. They moved slow at first, and in great sweeping circles. Then faster darting specks shot across the wide expanse in a great spectral shower.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The stars had begun to dance.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Light spreads across the grass as the back door to the house opens. You hear the brief chatter of conversation from inside, which stops as suddenly as a radio when the door closes again. The steps creak and Eustace twists around to see who it is.</span>
</p>
<p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh. Hello, Susan," he says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">You sit up stiffly, pulling your hand away from his. When you turn, Susan is standing on the bottom step, her violin and bow clutched tight in one hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"It's hot inside," she explains shortly. "And too loud to practise properly."</span>
</p>
<p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">You feel uncomfortable around her, the heated words of your last argument still ringing loud in your memory. "We've been watching the stars," you explain, gesturing to the sky.</span>
</p>
<p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Eustace adds, "I've managed to count six meteoroids so far."</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Susan watches you both before nodding slowly. "You'll catch cold if you lie on the grass too long." "We brought a blanket," you tell her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">She nods again and takes a breath. "I need a break from the chaos," she says. "Do you mind if I join you both?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Neither of you can think of a reason to protest. She takes a seat on the bottom step, laying her violin carefully on the wooden slats beside her. After a moment of awkwardly waiting for Susan to continue to speak, you lie back down on the blanket. Eustace remains sitting upright beside you, his hands splayed out behind him as support as he gazes upward to the sky.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Roonwit told you later that star showers always boded well for Narnia's future. Usually, it would be as simple as predicting a plentiful harvest or a mild winter. During the Skirmish of Stable Hill, however, more stars had danced than anyone could remember. And with their dance, the tides of battle had turned in Narnia's favour.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Eustace had complained that it didn't make sense that the actions of stars could foretell the </span>
  <span class="s3">events </span>
  <span class="s1">of an entire country. You had wondered if Aslan danced among them as easily as he walked the earth. Tirian told you that he'd felt the pull of his blood that night and thought, perhaps, that his kin had felt his silent call for aid even as his blood licked the edge of the Calormene's scimitar.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Blood doesn't call for help," Eustace had retorted, but you thought maybe Tirian was right.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It is only after Eustace has fallen back to lay beside you once more that Susan speaks again. "Was Narnia still beautiful?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">You are too surprised that she would even speak of that other world to answer. It is Eustace who replies, "Different, but still wild and free."</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Good," she says, and when you tip your head all the way back, you see that she rests her chin in her hands. Her instrument still lies on the step at her side.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Your archery lessons came in handy," you tell her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Good," she says again, her satisfaction more evident this time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Another star stretches across the sky and all three of you gasp at its brightness. Two more appear, one after the other, and Eustace adjusts his count beneath his breath.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The whole of the sky lies open above you, a wonder of winking specks and dancing lights. It occurs to you that maybe it doesn't matter how stars manifest in either world, that maybe they are the same thing in the end.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Why don't you play your violin out here for us?" you ask at last.</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Susan runs a finger along her bow. She lifts the violin to her lap and plucks at all the strings, slowly tuning. At last, she raises the instrument to her shoulder and plays a long, solemn note.</span>
</p>
<p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"It can be just as beautiful here," she says, so soft that she might not have meant you to hear. And then, with the inherent grace you've always known, she draws her bow to play a song for the stars.</span>
</p>
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